A Thousand Kisses, A Hundred More
by sugarplumdreams
Summary: Killian just keeps kissing Emma after they break the curse because now that he can, he never wants to stop.


**A/N:** Tumblr user seastarved requested:

CAN WE HAVE A FIC PLEASE WHERE KILLIAN JUST KEEPS KISSING EMMA AFTER THEY BREAK THE CURSE BECAUSE NOW THAT HE CAN, HE NEVER WANTS TO STOP?!

**Mood Music:** "Through the Dark" - Helen Jane Long (piano instrumental)

(Pre-season finale, purely speculative at the time regarding breaking Killian's curse with TLK. Posted to Tumblr April 16, 2014.)

* * *

**A Thousand Kisses, A Hundred More**

Her body comes awake slowly, her mind even slower, but she feels the light press and retreat of his lips on hers, the warmth of his breath dancing enticingly over her mouth as he gently coaxes her from her dreams. She hums, shifting instinctively when he moves over her and presses her further into the warmth of the bed. Her legs part, cradling his weight while his lips brush a little more insistently, a little more desperately.

_Ohhh_. She opens her mouth wider at the first swipe of his tongue over her bottom lip, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair of their own accord. He keeps her in that half-dazed state, lazily yet thoroughly exploring her mouth with teeth and tongue as if attempting to map out all of the secrets she possesses. He angles his head, deepening the kiss, and she swears to God her toes curl while heat sparks along every inch of her.

It's still so _new_, this requited love between them, but when he kisses her this way, it's as if they've done it a million times over, like two puzzle pieces perfectly matched and simply _made_ for each other. It makes her sigh contentedly, makes her heart squeeze sweetly as she pulls him in just a little closer and moves her mouth just a little more fervently. The scrape of his scruff against her skin tickles, makes her chuckle delightedly into his mouth and she feels his lips curve up at the sound. He eases up, gives her just enough breathing room but keeps close and nuzzles his nose against hers before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of it.

"Morning," she murmurs, unable to keep the grin off her face.

"Hi," he whispers.

And it's stupid how ridiculously _in love_ she feels but she doesn't care. She lowers her arms so her hands can cup his too-handsome face while she studies him. He's grinning back at her like an absolute idiot (the expression no doubt mirroring hers) and she can't hold back the laugh that escapes.

"Hi," she answers, fingertips tracing along the planes of his face — cheekbones, jaw, eyebrows, nose, _lips_. He turns his head, kisses at her palm, then nips playfully at her index finger before leaning down to brush his mouth over hers again.

"Can we stay here all day?" he asks, the words spoken lightly over her lips.

She smiles again, abruptly hooking her leg around his and rolling them over so she straddles his hips. Emma leans down, settling her body into his and groaning with him at the delicious friction they create. She touches their foreheads together.

"If the gentleman insists," she teases.

His hand cradles the back of her head, drawing her towards him and his waiting mouth while his arm tightens around her. "Oh, he insists."

Her laugh is muffled by his kiss.

* * *

He barges into her office like some dark knight on a crucial mission, doesn't even give her a chance to say his name before he's hauling her out of her chair and crushing her against him as he fuses their mouths together. The stars burst behind her eyes like a million points of light — a beautiful, overwhelming array of colors that leaves her breathless and stunned.

She doesn't even put up a fight, her body seems to have a mind of it's own as far as he's concerned, and as it melts into him, her hands grip his shoulders for purchase. She pushes up onto her toes, attempting to have more of him, then his wicked, _wicked_ tongue strokes roughly against hers and she dimly registers the feel of his fingers digging into her flesh and _Jesus_, she can't _breathe_.

His hand tangles into her hair, tugging lightly so her head tilts back and he, to put it simply, _devours_ her. That underlying desperation that always seems to accompany his kisses makes Emma drown in him, falling into a bottomless ocean of heat and lust while he tastes and takes and moves his mouth hungrily against hers. The burn between them is near scalding, igniting her skin and clouding her brain and making little whimpering noises sound from the back of her throat (she's too steeped in him to be embarrassed).

Then as quickly as it had started, it suddenly stops. He's gone — the warmth of him, the all-consuming desire that seeps from him - and as she stands there swaying and shaky and needy with her head positively reeling, his quietly smug chuckle draws her attention to where he stands in her doorway. Her chest is heaving, breaths coming out in panting gasps while her brain tries to comprehend what the _fuck_ just happened. The smile he gives her is _devastating_ and all Emma can do is blink at him in confusion.

"See you at dinner," he smirks, eyes lingering just a moment before he's off doing God knows what.

Emma plants her hands on her desk, bracing against it and trying to steady herself. _Wrecked_. She is _wrecked_ by a stupidly attractive, loving, sinfully sexy pirate. "_Fuck_," she mutters.

* * *

"We are never going to get out of here at this rate," she tells him grumpily, staring at him through the mirror in the bathroom.

She feels his breath along her bare shoulder followed by the press of lips and the trail of kisses to her neck where he nuzzles at the steadily beating pulse below her ear (it jumps when his teeth graze lightly). "That's the _point_, love."

"We're going to be late," she answers, focusing as hard as she can on the lotion she's smoothing onto her arm rather than the warm brush of his soft mouth as it moves along burning skin.

"So?"

His tongue flicks out over the strap of her bra, moistening the flesh there and Emma's body jerks in response as a gasp explodes from her lungs.

"You taste like ambrosia," he murmurs, hand raising so his fingers can gently push said strap from her shoulder.

She shivers, goosebumps raising on her skin where his fingertips lightly dance across and _Goddamn it_.

"Mmmm," he hums, chuckling softly as he nips playfully at the dip of her neck. "So responsive, Swan…makes a man daft with wanting."

And then his body slides up against her back, all strong and muscled, while his arms wrap around her from behind and he angles his head so his lips can nibble at her jaw. She drops her head back to his shoulder, one breathy exhale escaping from her throat. Then his hand inches up her side, grazing the outside of her breast, molding one long line to her jaw where he tilts her face towards him.

His mouth closes over hers and suddenly it's all heat…urgent, hungry, _burning_ heat that makes her chest tighten as she moans quietly — _shit_, they're going to be late.

* * *

"_'__Let us live, my Lesbia, let us love, and all the words of the old, and so moral, may they be worth less than nothing to us,' _" he murmurs, reciting the poetry from the book he's reading into her hair.

Her head is pillowed on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths, while her ear is pressed against the soothing rhythm of his heart. Her hand plays idly with the charms on his necklace, eyes fighting to stay awake as the sweet lull of his voice pulls her to sleep.

"_'__Suns may set, and suns may rise again: but when our brief light has set, night is one long everlasting sleep.'_" She feels the kiss he places to her forehead, to her brow, and she sighs contentedly. "_'Give me a thousand kisses, a hundred more, another thousand, and another hundred…' _"

She senses his smile, slants her head up to look at him as he closes the book and sets it down beside them onto the bed. When their eyes meet, his are so brightly blue and full of _so much_ emotion, it makes her heart squeeze and her stomach clench. It used to frighten her, what she'd see reflected back at her, but not anymore, and when his hand cups her face, fingers angling her head further up so he can kiss gently at her mouth, she welcomes the love that blooms warmly in her chest.

His lips are soft, familiar, _comforting_ and she revels in it, in _him_, enjoying the scrape of his scruff against her chin as he takes his time, savoring her and cherishing her and _wanting _her. Emma shifts, needing more, moving up to grasp his cheek in her palm and anchoring herself to him when his mouth moves just a little more eagerly against hers. He hums in the back of his throat and the sound reverberates through her, making her body shudder lightly. She'll never tire of this — of kissing him — for the rest of her life, she is absolutely certain.

His hand reaches up to cradle the back of her head (she loves when he does that, it reminds her of the first time he'd done it when she'd kissed him in Neverland forever ago), then he slows his rhythm before pulling away just a little bit to brush butterfly-light pecks against her kiss-swollen lips.

This time he sighs, thumbing at the dimple at the corner of her mouth. "_'And, when we've counted up the many thousands, confuse them so as not to know them all,' _" he quotes from memory. "_'So that no enemy may cast an evil eye, by knowing that there were so many kisses.' _"

"Show off," she mumbles, smiling at him when his silence signals the end of the poem.

He grins back. "What can I say? I've an outstanding memory and an affection for pretty words." He inches her forward until her lips are hovering just a breath away from his again. "And pretty, blonde-haired, green-eyed women."

Emma shakes her head at him, brow quirking at that amusedly as she rubs her nose with his and dances just out of reach from his waiting mouth. "I bet you are just so used to women falling at your feet over those flowery words…" _And that perfect face and that gorgeous accent and those big, blue doe-eyes_, she sighs internally. "Aren't you?"

He hums, musing over her words and leaning forward to try to steal a kiss. She evades with a teasing curve of her lips.

"Naturally," he replies, expression smug. Then his face goes a little soft as he twirls a lock of her hair around his finger. "All except you. I had to work a little harder for you, stubborn lass that you are."

She gives an unladylike snort. "You like that I'm stubborn."

"Touché," he chuckles, attempting to touch his mouth to hers once more and grumbling when she continues to slide out of reach.

She laughs lightly at his pouting expression then gives in and places a soft kiss to his lips, unable to resist him. Her face grows a little serious when she pulls back to study him, eyes boring into his and unafraid of allowing him see everything that she feels for him. "Thanks for working a little harder," she murmurs

He abruptly moves, rolling her beneath his body and settling over her as he rubs his cheek against hers, making her squirm in breathy laughter as he kisses along her jaw. "That's all I get?" he implores, eyes wide and playful when he looks at her again. "A measly 'thank you?'"

Her arms link around his neck and she can't keep the corners of her mouth from tugging up. "What? Isn't my gratitude reward enough?"

Killian lowers his head, nose scrunching as he joins their lips together in a gentle caress. "I'd prefer your heart." _Kiss_. "And your love." _Kiss_. "A vow of forever." _Kiss_.

Emma's heart lodges into her throat as he places one more kiss to the tip of her nose. "You have it," she tells him, feeling the tears welling up behind her eyes and the emotions rising up inside of her, bright and stunning. "You have all of those things, you know that."

His eyes light up at her words — breathtaking, dazzling — and her stomach flips at such a small, simple thing, and this time, when he kisses her, she pulls him in closer until she's not sure where one of them ends and the other begins.

_I love you. Gods, I love you._

The words are a whispered graze of his lips against hers and as Emma sinks into them — sinks into his warmth and his light — she offers them back to him.

_I love you._

* * *

When he comes home late one night, take-out in hand, she and Henry are on the couch, up to their ears in video games. He leans down over her and she instinctively accepts his offered kiss but keeps her eyes on the screen, refusing to be distracted.

"Hey you," she mumbles, fingers frantically pressing buttons and moving levers.

He moves his mouth to the dip in her neck, then to her cheek, and finally her temple. He lingers there and Emma's heart squeezes sweetly, stupid grin forming on her face before she can stop it.

"_Gross_," Henry says, though his eyes are fixed on the TV. "Get a _room_ for crying out loud!"

Killian's forehead drops to the side of her head, nose brushing her cheek, and they both sigh quietly at the same time. His chuckle sounds in her ear and she knows him well enough to know that he'll not allow Henry to go unscathed for his words. When Killian leaves her side, her smile turns smug. In her peripheral vision, she sees him slide up slowly towards her son, like a predator stalking it's prey. She has to give him credit for his speed because in less than half a second, he's managed to trap Henry in a headlock before proceeding to drop kisses all over the top of his head.

Henry chortles as he attempts to squirm away. "No! The game!" he pleads, but Killian is relentless.

The sounds of their playing and laughter make her feel light, warm, _happy_ and Emma's lips curve up all the way as she continues to kick her son's ass on the screen, her score ticking up with every second Killian spends distracting him.

Henry finally manages to break free from Killian's hold, falling dramatically to the floor as the game ends and Emma is announced victorious. She drops the controller, jumping up excitedly with both fists raised in the air. "_Yes!_ _Boom!_ Take that, kid!"

Her son sits up from the floor, scowling at them. "I demand a re-match! You guys tag-teamed me! That's _cheating_!"

"All's fair in love and war, my boy," Killian laughs, winking at him before reaching over to ruffle his hair fondly.

Henry plops back onto the ground on a defeated groan. "I thought you liked me," he pouts. "I thought we were _friends_. Don't think I won't remember this the next time you want some fries off my plate."

Emma stands grinning at them, hands on her hips as she watches the easy exchange and obvious affection between the two.

"That's alright," Killian replies. "I'll just steel them off your mother's plate."

Then he turns those ridiculously blue eyes on her and her stomach abruptly clenches, the intended 'oh no, get your own fries,' dying on her lips. She wonders if it'll ever go away, the way she just lights up from the inside every time he looks at her in just _that_ way (like he can see through to her very soul), but when his lips curve up in that flirtatious way he always does, and when he walks over to her slowly so that the anticipation coils restlessly in her stomach, and when he finally eases his body into hers and his arms wrap around her waist, and when he _finally_ lowers his head to give her a proper hello, she knows it never will.

He smells of the sea and it makes her smile again — she's always loved the sea. She sighs happily, hands moving into his hair to tangle there (she loves his unruly, dark hair) while he kisses her. He doesn't deepen it though, or try to stir her to desire (she knows it's for Henry's sake — always the gentleman, her pirate), despite the fact that it's practically radiating off of him, he simply presses his lips firmly against hers as he breathes her in (she knows it's for the both of them — because he's missed her, having been apart all day, and because he wants to tell her so).

She shifts her body a little further into his, moves her mouth in response when he retreats gently then comes back for a second kiss. (She's missed him too.)

The moment is shattered by the abrupt throw of a pillow and Henry's disgusted voice. "You are ruining my appetite!"

She doesn't miss hearing the smile in his tone though, and that makes _her_ grin in turn, but she cuts the kid some slack and pulls away from Killian with a light tug to his hair (a promise to finish their reunion later) and a deep exhale of breath. She stays in his arms though, not quite ready to let him go, and when she feels his lips flutter across her cheek as she turns her attention to Henry, she doesn't mind one bit (even if it makes Henry roll his eyes and fall face forward onto the couch with an exasperated moan and a threat to move out).

* * *

"That's mine," he murmurs gruffly, voice thick with sleep as he watches her slip his black shirt over her head.

"I'll be back, I'm just getting some water. Besides, aren't we going to watch the sunrise?"

She smiles, pulling her hair from the back and letting it fall over her shoulder in thick waves as she watches their shadows dance in the room from the lamplight. That piques his interest and he's abruptly sitting up and propping himself on the headboard, watching her. She slides the soft garment lower until it skims the tops of her thighs like a tunic, holding his quickly warming gaze. Her heart rate picks up when his eyes travel down to the low v-cut (honestly, why does he even bother getting dressed for the day?) to where she knows her breasts are peeking out tantalizingly. He moistens lips with his tongue and Emma's bodily reaction is so fierce, she actually sways on her feet. Her breasts grow heavy, aching as her nipples tighten through the practically sheer top under his intense scrutiny and heat pools between her legs. _Jesus_.

Killian smirks, eyes moving lower appreciatively before lifting back to hers. He arches an eyebrow at her then crooks his finger, beckoning her to come closer and she does, with a purposeful sway of hips. The minute she's within arm's reach, his hand falls to her thigh, slipping beneath the material to caress at her skin. The metal of his rings are cold against her flesh and she can't keep from shivering.

"This is _mine_," he growls lowly, hand bunching the fabric and tugging it sharply so that she practically falls into him and she has to brace herself on his shoulders while a gasp escapes her mouth.

She looks down at him, body humming in anticipation, water and sunrises completely forgotten and overshadowed by the hungry look in his eyes. She is aching for him now — wanting him, needing him — and when his hand moves back under his shirt, fingers dancing up to her hip, and he drops a tender kiss between her breasts as he studies her through his lashes, she has the fleeting thought that she would beg for him before a miserable cup of water and trade every gorgeous sunrise til the end of her days for just a _moment_ with him, if given the choice.

Her fingers splay out across his neck, anchoring there while her thumb traces the angular line of his jaw. Her other hand combs through his hair, and her lips curve up at the corners before, without warning, she yanks his head back so his mouth tips up towards her. He groans and his fingers dig roughly into her hip.

"Well, what are you going to do about it, _pirate_?" Her voice sounds throaty, low and challenging to her ears as she lowers her head so her lips hover just a breath away from his.

He closes the space between them, crushing his mouth to hers in a searing kiss. It's there again, she can feel it from him, that desperate urgency to kiss her, to touch her, to breathe her in as if his very life depended on it. She doesn't think much of it, she _can't_, she's too far lost in the rhythm of his mouth and call of his body and their mutual need to have and possess.

* * *

She's standing beside the punchbowl, having a conversation with Regina at Roland's birthday party when Killian appears out of nowhere and snags her drink out of her hand to set it down. Emma stares at him dumbfounded as he smiles cheerfully at the Queen.

"Pardon me," he says, before turning his mischievous (and deeply blue eyes — _God_) to her.

"What are you-" Her words are cut short, replaced by the _embarrassing _squeal that leaves her mouth when he stoops low to wrap his arms around her legs and hoist her up against him as he stands.

There's no place for her arms to go but about around his neck and there's no chance for her to berate him, insisting he set her down, because his lips quickly silence her with a firm kiss. They are at a child's birthday for God's sake! But as always, she is powerless to the love between them and just simply gives in without much protest — melting against him as his endless yearning for her rises up from him and spills into her, knowing it's better to just let him have his fill, otherwise he'll keep coming back until he's sated (he might keep coming back anyway because that's just what he _does_).

It's only when Regina clears her throat (twice) that he finally sets her down, a playful little nip to her bottom lip that makes her head spin right off her shoulders. Emma's hand covers her mouth, fingers pressing to her tingling lips while her other hand steadies herself on the table. She watches him smirk at Regina (who looks about ready to materialize a few arrows to shoot at him) before stretching his arms out and bowing with dramatic flourish.

"_Your Majesty_," he says, winking at Emma — _idiot_ — before heading back to the table where Henry, Roland, David and Robin are all engrossed in a heated competition over who can get the most points in Flappy Bird (she really needs to delete that game off her iPad — and she will, as soon as her head floats back down to reattach itself to her body).

"Really did a number on him, didn't she?" Regina asks.

Emma blinks, trying to clear her head. "What? Who?"

"My sister."

She turns towards the brunette. "What do you mean?"

Regina's brow arches at her. "_Seriously?_ That man hasn't been able to keep his mouth off of you since you broke that curse my sister put on him."

Her body jolts at that. "_What?_" she scoffs on a laugh. "_No._ We're just- he- so he's a little affectionate, everything's new and…we love each other-" _No_, she doesn't blush when she says it, she _doesn't_. "And-"

"_Please_, your parents show more restraint than you two," Regina rolls her eyes.

Emma pauses suddenly, body going still as her mind thinks about the last couple of months…the underlying _desperation_ behind every kiss to her mouth, every brush of lips along her skin, every kiss to her temple, her cheek, her shoulder…and- oh! _Ohh._ The ache that blooms in her heart is so bittersweet, the tears that well up behind her eyes so overwhelming, that she has to clear her throat to get rid of the lump of emotion that lodges itself there.

"It's sweet," Regina says after a moment. "His making up for lost time. You're very lucky." She hands Emma back her cup and clinks them together companionably. "Most people don't get even a fraction of that kind of love between you two."

There's a collective round of cheers and moans at the table that draws their attention. She sees Henry and Roland flanking Killian as they jump up and down and scream in excitement while the other two men groan in disappointment. Her pirate grins smugly, giving Roland a high-five then turning to Henry and promptly doing the 'secret' handshake they made up a few weeks ago.

"Hmm," Regina muses. "Looks like he won."

Emma can feel her pointed look at the side of her head, but she ignores it, unable to glance away from him when their eyes meet across the space and his expression softens as he smiles happily at her.

"Looks like we both did," she murmurs.

* * *

"Regina said something to me last week," she starts, snuggling her back into his chest and pulling the blanket tighter around them while they sit on the deck of his ship and watch the sun set.

"What's that, love?"

She feels the press of his lips to the curve of her neck, the deep inhale he takes of her and the two kisses to her cheek. Her heart stutters in her chest.

"That the reason why you can't stop kissing me is because of what Zelena did to you, because you couldn't and you weren't sure if you'd get to again."

Emma knows by the slight stiffening in his body and the way his arms tighten around her that every word is true and she aches a little bit. She shifts in his arms, turning her head so she can bury her face into the warmth of his neck and place a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw, assuring him that he no longer has to worry about such things ever again.

"Maybe I just like kissing you," he tells her, resting his cheek against her forehead.

"Maybe you're just too much of an open book."

He chuckles at that and her chest tightens at the sound.

"I'm fairly certain it's just because I like kissing you," he replies.

"Well, I should hope so. You're going to be be doing it for a long, _long_ time."

Killian pulls back, and judging by the expression on his too-handsome face, he needs to see her, needs to see the truth of those words in her eyes. "You make it sound like such a hardship, Swan."

"You never know," she says, reaching up to trace over the scar on his cheek then along his bottom lip, delighting in the simple fact that Zelena can no longer touch them, touch _him_. "You might get sick of me."

He lowers his head and does just that, kisses her, and Emma finds that it is as familiar in its heat and as its urgency. "Mmmm," he hums when he finally pulls away. "You're right. I suppose you'll just have to get creative. You know, find new ways to keep me interested."

She laughs when he wiggles his eyebrows at her and drops her head back onto his shoulder. "Well what if I get sick _you_?"

He rolls his eyes, nuzzles is face against hers before brushing his lips over hers once more. "Highly unlikely."

"But still possible."

He shakes his head insistently. "No, I don't think so."

She laughs again, sighing contentedly, and settling into his love and warmth. "I love you."

"I love you too." _Kiss_.

"Forever?" Emma wonders, despite knowing the answer already.

"And well beyond that."

This time she kisses him — long and slow and sweet. "Such a romantic."

"What can I say, you inspire the nefarious villain."

She snorts. "More like infamous softy."

His smile makes the dimples in his cheeks deepen and she loses another little piece of her heart to him, then her laughter abruptly rings out into the air as his fingers dig into her ribs and the precise spot he knows she's ticklish. She squirms against him and they make a tangled mess of blankets and limbs and laughter as he lowers them onto the deck. When he kisses her again — fierce and demanding — she doesn't mind because she's _happy_, and she's home, and she's loved and she loves in return.

So much — so, _so much_.

_Fin_


End file.
